


Selective Amnesia

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "The Walls of Jericho."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selective Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #15 under the pen name Laura Cathcart.

_"I think it might be best if you use me as a scapegoat."_

 

General Henry J. Wilson sat in the Cottage's basement computer lab, a short stack of printouts in his hands.  "When Colonel Ironhorse told me you were planning to send some of your research to me, I thought I could use that as an excuse to drop by and see how you folks were doing!"

He paused, looking down at the paperwork, skimming it.  "Yes… very interesting indeed… well thought out… good… good work."

He looked up at Harrison, pausing as he considered how to phrase his question.  "I don't see any mention of that amnesia theory of yours that you told me about a few weeks ago."

Harrison paused a moment, then replied reluctantly.  "Oh.  Essentially that's a theory made popular by people who believe in UFOs, General."

Knowing Harrison was trying to deflect the general's line of inquiry, Norton couldn't help but upset his boss's plans.  "Which should – all weird things being considered – include all of us in this room."

Sensing the sub-currents, but unable to decipher them, Wilson glanced up at the colonel, who shot Drake a narrow-eyed glare.  Norton fired back at Ironhorse with a challenging grin and Wilson couldn't stop his own small smile.  He glanced away so Ironhorse wouldn't see it.

"Thank you, Norton," Harrison said, the sentiment unfelt.  "General Wilson, I'll get you the details as soon as I'm satisfied it's complete."

"I see," Wilson said, finally getting a better appreciation of what the colonel was putting up with on a fulltime basis.

Ironhorse met Blackwood's gaze and shook his head, letting him know that his tactic wasn't going to work.  The astrophysicist looked to Suzanne, hoping for some support.

"Uh, Harrison, couldn't you give Uncle Hank just a few of the highlights?"

Wilson looked up at Blackwood.  "Yes, Doctor, do you think you could manage to do that?"

Harrison hesitated a moment, then nodded.  "All right, but let's get some coffee and go outside."

"Fine, I was hoping I'd have the opportunity to sample some of Mr. Drake's coffee."  He turned and smiled up at Suzanne.  "I've certainly heard enough about it."

"One pot of special blend comin' up," Norton said.  "Go ahead, I'll bring it up."

"Mrs. Pennyworth made some banana bread yesterday," Suzanne said as she took her uncle's arm and lead him to the elevator.  "Would you like some?"

"Of course!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a short stop in the kitchen the group moved to the outdoor patio, enjoying the bread while they waited for Norton to emerge with a full carafe of coffee and five cups on a small tray Mrs. Pennyworth had arranged for him.

Norton poured and Suzanne handed the cups out.  Wilson took a sip, nodded appreciatively, then set his cup on the table and paced off several feet, looking out over the Cottage property.

"So, Doctor," he said, "tell me more about this theory of yours."

Harrison leaned back in his chair.  "The theory holds those people who had contact with extraterrestrials often are unable to remember that contact without the aid of regressive hypnosis."

"And why is that, Doctor?" Wilson asked, turning to look at the four members of the Blackwood Project.

"Well, there are two schools of thought on that," Harrison said as the general made his way back to his chair and sat down.  "I'd say the answer is probably a little of both."  He leaned forward slightly.  "One is that the aliens possess the means to make us block out the incident.  And the other is that we block it out ourselves.  It has to do with selective memory, the mind's ability to deeply submerge into the subconscious things – in this case the existence of aliens – that it finds too disturbing to deal with on a conscious level."

Wilson didn't reply and Ironhorse filled the silence.  "It sounds like a lot of head-shrink doubletalk to me."

"I'm _not_ surprised," Norton replied.

Ignoring the exchange, Wilson said, "I was a second lieutenant in 1953."  His gaze turned inward as he added.  "I saw a hell of a lot of action during that war, but for the life of me, I can't seem to remember a detail."

"That's it," Harrison said softly, wondering what it was the general was seeing in his memories.

Seeing that Wilson was lost in thought, Ironhorse cleared his throat, then asked, "Is there anything else you wish to see, General?"

"What?" Wilson asked.  "No, no.  I'm pretty well brought up to date… except for a briefing by you, Colonel."

"If you'll just follow me, please, sir," Ironhorse said, standing.

Suzanne reached out, catching Wilson's arm as he started to stand.  "You are staying for dinner, aren't you, Uncle Hank?"

"I wouldn't miss it," he assured his niece, then stood and  trailed after the colonel as Ironhorse led the way back to his office.

Allowing Wilson to enter, Ironhorse closed the door, then paced to his desk, stopping to lean back against it, his arms folded across his chest.  "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Wilson eased himself into the comfortable padded leather chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk.  "Of course, Paul."

"I was wondering why the general neglected to mention the fact that he'd fought aliens, sir."

The colonel's tone was cold and restrained and Wilson considered the question for a moment before he replied.  After all, Paul had lost an entire unit and deserved an explanation.

"Until Dr. Blackwood and Suzanne came to see me for the first time concerning the aliens I had no memories of the 1953 invasion," he explained, leaning back in his chair, his head tilted back slightly so he was staring at the top row of Ironhorse's bookshelves.  "After that visit I started making some… discreet inquiries, shall we say, into the war of '53, including a covert look at my own records from that time.  When I saw my service record…"  He trailed off, shaking his head.  "I just don't understand how it's possible that I could forget action like that."

Ironhorse's expression softened.  "I don't know, sir.  This whole situation is… beyond anything we've seen in the past."

Wilson met the colonel's gaze.  "If I had known, Paul, if I had remembered, I would have told you.  But even now I don't remember a single detail of the '53 war, not a single damned thing."

Ironhorse's head dropped slightly.  "My apologies, General."

"For what, Colonel?" Wilson asked, an amused expression on his face as he made a silent guess what the apology was for.

Ironhorse pushed off the desk and walked around to his chair and sat down.  "I was looking for something or someone to blame," he admitted bluntly.

"For the loss of Delta Squad?" Wilson asked, leaning forward in the chair.

Ironhorse nodded.  "If I'd listened to Blackwood that night, maybe—"

"Paul, for Christ's sake don't start second guessing yourself.  It'll just give you ulcers and bad dreams, believe me."

A slight smile lifted the corners of the colonel's mouth.  "I'll try, sir, but I can't make any promises.  There are times when I stop and think about it and it seems like the entire situation should've been avoidable."

"These things aren't going to make this easy.  We'll be fighting in the dark until we can find the information we had in 1953 or build it up again with this Project."

"If these things are still alive," Paul said.  "The lack of activity seems… out of character."

"Oh, they're alive," Wilson said.  "You know it and I know it, but there are plenty of others who would rather sweep this entire situation under the rug and hope that it goes away."

"That's crazy," Ironhorse hissed.  "What do they—?"

Wilson held up a hand to stop the argument before it started.  "I agree with you, Paul, but there was nothing I could do.  Other opinions reached the President's ear before mine and he's convinced that the aliens are dead or on the run.  They're shutting us down."

"Shutting us down?" Ironhorse repeated.  "But what about the research?"

"The opinion is – if the aliens are gone, there's no need to study them, no need to spend the money," Wilson said, clearly restating the arguments he'd heard in Washington.

"Blackwood's not going to take this well," Paul said.  "I think it might be best if you use me as a scapegoat."

"And why is that, Colonel?"

"In case we find out three or six weeks or months from now that they're back.  If we alienate Blackwood too much you won't be able to get him back, but if he thinks I'm responsible he won't write off the entire military establishment and the government.  Blackwood doesn't appreciate the chain of command.  He doesn't realize the number of people involved in this operation.  In fact, I think he thinks it's just me, you, and the President."

The general's eyes widened and he chuckled.  "I see your point," Wilson said. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

"I'd recommend that you suggest that due to my 'report' on the aliens' possible susceptibility to radiation poisoning you've reached the conclusion that the alien threat has been neutralized."

Wilson nodded.  "I think I can do that."

"How long do we have to dismantle the Project?"

"I was able to get the President to agree to a flexible timetable.  They can take whatever time they need.  Hopefully, no one will be in a hurry."

"And if we get activity?"

Wilson's eyes brightened.  "If something does come up, it's got to be concrete, no wild goose chases."

"Understood."

"Push them, Paul.  Make then pull together and come up with proof – fast.  They've got to act as a unit.  If they can give me something to take back to the President, we'll have the backing we need."

"I know, sir," Ironhorse replied.  "And I've tried to mold them into a group, but right now the best I can do is motivate them in opposition to me."

"If we get activity – and, God help me, I hope we do to show those idiots on the Hill and in the Pentagon that this is a real threat – then get me some solid evidence of alien involvement and I'll take care of the rest."

"I'll do my best, but if we isolate me from the Project, which I think we have to in case this is a bust, they might not come through if they get the opportunity."

"It's a chance we have to take, Paul."

Ironhorse nodded.  "I'll do my best, sir."

"I know," Wilson assured him.  "You always do, and it's almost always more than enough.  I just hope that this is no exception."

"Me, too, sir.  Me, too."  He stood.  "So, you're staying for dinner?"

"I never miss an opportunity to enjoy some of Mrs. Pennyworth's cooking.  Oh, and speaking of Greta, she asked me to let you know that she's in on the secret, and would appreciate it if that fact was passed around.  I take it she's feeling a little out of the loop."

"I'll make sure Blackwood and your niece get the message – if we get to stay."

"Thank you," Wilson said.

"In case we do stay on, I have some ideas regarding security I'd like to discuss with you."

The general checked his watch.  "Well, we have a couple of hours, why don't you show me now?"

"Fine," Ironhorse said, starting toward the door.  "If you'll follow me, we'll start in the basement."


End file.
